<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>You blew out the candles and i made a wish by Tangerinetoad</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29149923">You blew out the candles and i made a wish</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tangerinetoad/pseuds/Tangerinetoad'>Tangerinetoad</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>it must be fate, i found a place for us [4]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Minecraft (Video Game)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Farm/Ranch, Birthday Cake, Birthday Fluff, Birthday angst lol, Butterflies, Child Abandonment, Dysfunctional Family, Family Dynamics, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Horses, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, It's a baby, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Wilbur Soot and Technoblade and TommyInnit are Siblings, Winged Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), a lot of stars, although it isn't relevant, don't be scared by the original female character, lol, pretty much, so blame him, the beta was Bernard, three + one things</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 09:08:46</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,348</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29149923</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tangerinetoad/pseuds/Tangerinetoad</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>The years might pass, but Tommy will always treasure the gifts his family has given.</p><p>~~</p><p>Three birthdays Tommy will always remember, and one he's sure he'll never forget.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Technoblade &amp; TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), TommyInnit &amp; Clementine, TommyInnit &amp; Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), Wilbur Soot &amp; Technoblade &amp; TommyInnit &amp; Phil Watson, Wilbur Soot &amp; Technoblade &amp; Tommyinnit &amp; Phil Watson &amp; Original Female Character(s), Wilbur Soot &amp; TommyInnit, all platonic bith, why is there a tag for phil &amp; phil lmao</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>it must be fate, i found a place for us [4]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2113320</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>401</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>You blew out the candles and i made a wish</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Wrote this at night, once again. Birthdays are a lot of mixed emotions for me, and this fic was born from me remembering the good and bad. This is connected to my series 'it must be fate, i found a place for us' so some things won't make sense if you don't read at least the first one, which I fixed the format of by the way!</p><p>TW// pretty much just straight up child abandonment in the 10th birthday part, but Tommy mainly just misses them, it isn't about the struggle they have to survive during that time.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>
    <em>~6th Birthday~</em>
  </p>
</div><p>He’s five years old and running down a hallway. Every step is muffled by the padded carpet, newly installed after one too many of his nasty falls. There are voices behind him, laughing and talking, but he’s only focused on the person chasing him. Their steps are heavier than his, shaking the floor slightly as they begin to catch up to him.<br/>
<br/>
Wilbur scoops him up from behind and he squeals, flailing his arms uselessly as the tickles start. The voices behind them draw near as Techno and Phil join them. Phil is smiling at them fondly, Techno ranting about a book he read that he claims is complete hogwash. Tommy thinks it’s funny that he uses that word so much.<br/>
<br/>
He squirms in Wilbur's arms, silently asking to be let down, and Wilbur gently drops him. Tommy yelps and hits the leg that's nearest to his short arm, which turns out to be Phil’s. Phil tsks at him and he mutters a “<em>sorry Phil</em>”.<br/>
<br/>
His spirits are not dampened for long though, and he takes off once more, this time determined to make it outside, where presents and cake are.<br/>
<br/>
His family smiles, following at a slower pace. It’s Tommy’s sixth birthday today, and at sunset tonight he can proudly announce he has become an even bigger man. He’s been talking about today for weeks now, still young enough to be excited by aging. Plus, he’ll finally get his very own sword today, as his brothers had on their sixth birthday.<br/>
<br/>
Yeah, he’s gonna be the biggest man once he gets that sword. Tommy is very confident that he’ll be able to beat Techno in no time, regardless of how his family laughs when he announces his intentions. He tackled Techno the other day and he went down! Tommy’s clearly superior.<br/>
<br/>
Tommy reaches the door, which refuses to open despite his jumping. A hand reaches over his head and Wilbur appears, twisting the handle and pushing it open.<br/>
<br/>
“You’re welcome loser!” Wilbur yells from the porch, where Tommy has left him in the dust.<br/>
<br/>
Tommy sticks his tongue out at him, now climbing the swing Phil recently put up. So far, Tommy has gotten flung from it eight times, all happening when Techno and Wilbur are the ones pushing. The last time, he’d dislocated his arm, so now neither of his brothers are allowed near him when he’s on it. Tommy will never admit it, but it’s kind of boring without them. Phil never pushes high enough.<br/>
<br/>
Over by the porch Phil has assembled the food, on a table he dragged out earlier. The twins had been occupying Tommy while he set up, playing pretend with him. Techno still has a crown sitting lopsidedly on his head, Wilbur is wearing an old brown coat they found in the attic.<br/>
<br/>
Phil calls them over to the table and they all run to join him. There's mashed potatoes, pork, green beans, melons, an array of cheese, and chocolate to dip fruit in. The cake is shaped like a cow, which Tommy decides is the coolest thing he’s ever seen, and a pile of presents await him under the table.<br/>
<br/>
The sky is cloudless, clear and blue. Just like Tommy’s eyes.<br/>
<br/>
He blows out the six candles with one breath, eyes closed as he makes a wish to the sound of his family cheering. He opens his presents, grinning at each one. A set of training armor, a couple new books to read for bedtime, some emeralds for him to spend at the village. When he’s opened each one, he looks to Phil, who is now standing with something behind his back, hidden by his wings.<br/>
<br/>
“Now mate, remember, no playing with this. It isn’t a toy, it’s a tool. One of us has to be with you when you practice with it.” Phil says, slowly bringing his arm around.<br/>
<br/>
In his hand is the thing Tommy’s been waiting weeks for. A shining blade, newly made just for him. The handle is wrapped in red leather, his favorite color, and his initials are etched into the pommel. T.I.<br/>
<br/>
Tommy Innit.<br/>
<br/>
Almost reverently, Tommy accepts the sword, pointing it down and looking down it like he’s seen the others do. It just looks sharp. He grins, swinging it slightly. It feels right.<br/>
<br/>
“I am such a big man.” Tommy announces, breaking the silence. “Just you wait Tech, I’m coming for you!”<br/>
<br/>
Techno huffs, amused. “As if. You’re tiny, I’d just dropkick you.”<br/>
<br/>
Phil coughs, hiding a laugh, while Wilbur openly guffaws. Tommy glares at them all.<br/>
<br/>
The day devolves into chaos, most of which Tommy doesn’t remember when he’s older. It’s just those moments that he can recall, the glee of receiving his very own sword, the feeling of them all being together. He’ll miss that feeling most of all in the years to come. </p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>
    <em>~10th Birthday~</em>
  </p>
</div><p>	He’s sitting in the window, knees against his chin. It’s chilly outside, the sky overcast and the ground foggy. Occasionally the wind will sweep the fog away and he’ll see tiny yellow dots, the flowers that populate the meadow.<br/>
<br/>
Wilbur is making noise in the kitchen, trying to chase away the silence that sits in the empty chairs at the table. It isn’t working very well, but his humming is a nice background noise. Almost makes the scene feel homey.<br/>
<br/>
There’s only one present for him this year, wrapped in leftover paper scraps. Tommy knows Wilbur spent his nights working on it though, when he thought Tommy was asleep in the room they share. He also knows that Wilbur is using the last of the flour for the cake, and that they are running out of emeralds from Phil’s last visit.<br/>
<br/>
Phil.<br/>
<br/>
His father hasn’t been home in nearly a month, not the longest he’s ever been gone, and Techno had gone with him this time. Tommy had held out hope that they’d return for Tommy’s birthday. Seemed that hope had been misplaced.<br/>
<br/>
There’s someone outside, Tommy suddenly registers. He scrambles to get up, almost falling off the sill before he gets his feet under him and races to the door. Wilbur hasn’t stopped his humming. Tommy throws open the door, a greeting on his lips, and falters.<br/>
<br/>
The figure in front of him doesn’t have wings. There isn’t any pink hair peeking out from under their hat. Instead, they wear the familiar outfit of a messenger. They’re holding a package, bound together with twine, brown paper dotted with little marks where water had hit it.<br/>
<br/>
“Package for.. Tommy Innit?” they look up expectantly.<br/>
<br/>
“Yeah.. that’s me. Hang on, lemme grab some emeralds-”<br/>
<br/>
“Oh no need,” they smile kindly and push the package into Tommy’s hands. “It's already been paid for! Have a nice day now!”<br/>
<br/>
With a tip of their hat they turn, disappearing once more into the fog. Tommy stares after them for a moment, until Wilbur calls from the kitchen, asking who it was.<br/>
<br/>
“Just a messenger. I got a package.” he closes the door. The name and address on the package are scrawled in Phil’s neat handwriting. There’s no return address.<br/>
<br/>
Tommy makes his way into the kitchen, where Wilbur is now standing by the stove. He’s making mushroom soup. It smells delicious. Tommy hands the package to him, leaning against the counter.<br/>
<br/>
“It’s from Phil! Told you he wouldn’t forget.” Wilbur exclaims, ruffling Tommy’s hair with one hand. “Put it in the pile, go on.”<br/>
<br/>
Tommy takes it from Wilbur's outstretched hand, and deposits it next to the other present. The pile looks a little less sad with two presents, but he knows the presence of two other people would be better. He doesn’t bother to shake away those thoughts. There isn’t much point in unfounded hope anymore.<br/>
<br/>
Beside him, Wilbur sighs. He’s still stirring the soup with one hand, constant circles. The other hand is massaging his own forehead with the same circles. The cake is beginning to overpower the soup smell, the lemon sharp against the air. No doubt it will be done soon.<br/>
<br/>
“Why don’t you get some bowls?” Wilbur asks him, a tired smile on his face. Tommy complies, setting the table for the two of them. He wishes Wilbur had let him help cook.<br/>
<br/>
Tommy has bandages around his fingers, from picking up a hot pan without gloves, and now they’re getting wet as he fills glasses of water. He makes a face at the feeling. It’s soggy. He presses his fingers into a dish towel. It dries them out enough.<br/>
<br/>
Wilbur is now scooping the soup into the bowls, the steam fogging up his glasses. He looks funny like that, as he peers over the frames in order to navigate. Tommy giggles to himself, waving his brother away when Wilbur raises an eyebrow at him. They both sit, across from each other like always, ignoring the empty seats.<br/>
<br/>
They dig in, Tommy slurping enthusiastically. Wilbur opts for a more refined way, simply drinking straight from the bowl with no spoon. When he lowers it, he has a mushroom mustache. Tommy almost chokes on his soup with laughter, gaining enough control to throw a napkin in Wilbur's face before dissolving into shrieking laughter once again.<br/>
<br/>
Wilbur is unamused at first, but like most siblings, is drawn in by his brother's laughter and so they both laugh. And laugh. And laugh, until it transforms into sobbing and then they’re both crying, sitting at a table made for four. Tommy’s tears drip into his soup, which he knows is going to be unappetizing once he stops crying, but he can’t bring himself to care.<br/>
<br/>
When they finally calm down, it’s to the scent of lemon, beginning to sour with a burnt smell. Wilbur gasps, leaping up and for the oven mitt. He brings out a yellow cake, the edges of the crust a dark brown. It isn’t too burnt, nothing that can’t be hidden with icing. Wilbur looks up and makes eye contact with Tommy, eyelashes still wet with tears.<br/>
<br/>
“Well, at least we saved the cake. Here, you open presents at the table while I ice it.” Wilbur says, setting the pan down and dragging a bowl with white icing inside closer to himself. Tommy nods and picks up Wilbur's gift. It feels soft, like some sort of clothing. The bandages are unwieldy as he tears the paper wrapping, revealing red. It’s a red sweater, handknit, soft against his cheek when he presses his face to it.<br/>
<br/>
“Thanks Wil,” he says, finding himself choked up for the second time in the last ten minutes. “I love it.”<br/>
<br/>
Wilbur scratches the back of his neck sheepishly. “We had a lot of left over wool from the sheep. It was no biggy.”<br/>
<br/>
Tommy refrains from telling him he knows about the sleepless nights. Instead, he pulls the soft material over his head. It falls to his midthigh, but that just means there’s room to grow. Which he is obviously going to do. Any day now.<br/>
<br/>
Now it’s time for the package. Tommy runs his fingers over the writing, tracing the letters his father wrote, from wherever he is right now. Then he tears it open. Out fall two discs, clattering onto the table. A note floats down on top. He goes for the note first.<br/>
<br/>
<em>Happy birthday Tommy!<br/>
Love,<br/>
Phil and Techno</em><br/>
<br/>
The note is in Phil’s handwriting, but Techno’s name is signed in his own fancy cursive. He wonders if Phil knows how old he’s turning. He turns his attention to the discs. <em>Cat</em> and <em>Mellohi</em>, they read. Despite everything, Tommy knows he’ll treasure these.<br/>
<br/>
At the counter, Wilbur curses, snatching his hand back from the apparently hot cake. Tommy gets up to join him, already complaining that the icing is melting.<br/>
<br/>
And in the future, throughout every skirmish for the discs, every fight he gets in because of them, he’ll keep a red sweater hidden, though he’s long grown out of it. And he won’t remember this birthday because of the discs, no he’ll remember it because of Wilbur’s tired smile, and a cake with melted icing, ten candles shoved into it. He’ll remember that it took two breaths to blow them out, and wax got on the cake, but they couldn’t tell until Wilbur bit into it and it tasted horrible. He’ll remember that night, as the sun went down and Wilbur sang to him, that the stars came out from behind the clouds. </p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>
    <em>~17th Birthday~</em>
  </p>
</div><p>	He stretches out his legs, yawning. He’s sat on the hill, gazing out at sea. There’s chores to be done, but he’s decided they can wait for today. It is, after all, his birthday. Tommy’s turning seventeen, alone. It feels almost poetic.<br/>
<br/>
The sky is gray, drizzling rain, but it’s still warm enough that he’s forgone a jacket. Below him, the waves are crashing, almost like they’re giving him a performance.<br/>
<br/>
Tommy hasn’t received any gifts this year, unless you count a flower crown Clara had gifted him during her last visit. He hadn’t told her about his birthday, mainly because it felt a little unreal. It had been a whole year since he’d fled. Last birthday, he’d been surrounded by friends, Tubbo and Wilbur, Fundy and Niki. It had been a lively party. He’d blown something up.<br/>
<br/>
Now, he sits on his own, actually enjoying the silence for once. He has vague plans to make a cake later, provided it doesn’t burn down his house, and maybe he’ll take Bernard out for a run. That always lowers the risk of being mauled by him.<br/>
<br/>
At the moment though, he’s content to watch the ocean. In the back of his mind, he wonders what his family is doing right now, if they even remember what today is. Wilbur has never forgotten, but Ghostbur’s whole schtick is forgetting, so it’s a toss-up if he’ll know. He’s not sure he even wants his dead brother to remember all that comes with this day.<br/>
<br/>
Like all his other birthdays, he doesn’t feel older. In fact, he feels a little more lost on this one. There’s supposed to be people guiding him. He isn’t an adult yet, but the weight on his shoulders sure makes it feel like he is.<br/>
<br/>
Tommy stands, stretches his arms above his head, cracks his neck. The beautiful view is clearly something he can’t enjoy properly right now, so might as well get some things done. He heads for the barn.<br/>
<br/>
Later, after an invigorating ride through the misty plains with Bernard, he looks out his kitchen window. He’s attempting to make a cake and it’s going well. He thinks. To be honest, Tommy has no clue what batter is supposed to look like, if it's supposed to have this many lumps or if he needs more eggs. He’d thought there was water involved, but that had made it unpleasantly slimy. He’s starting to think bakers are just using magic.<br/>
<br/>
Somehow, he manages to get something that smells alright into the pan. Tommy is careful not to burn his fingers as he places the cake in the oven and sets a timer. Then he turns to dinner, which he has decided will be a simple steak and potatoes. Elegant, definitely fitting for a big man.<br/>
<br/>
Tommy hesitates when setting the table. There’s three missing people this time, and no one to commiserate with. He will not be crying this time though. That was a promise.<br/>
<br/>
After, when he’s sitting on his couch waiting for the cake to be done, Tommy contemplates. He thinks of his discs, somewhere in the world. He hopes whoever has them loves them as much as did. He thinks of his red sweater, upstairs in his closet, well-loved and too small now. He thinks of his very first sword, tiny compared to the swords he owns now, but much more sentimental.<br/>
<br/>
Those gifts were all close to his heart, because of who gave them. It’s the people he truly missed, still misses, even with their history.<br/>
<br/>
It’s like a song Wilbur sang once, Tommy thinks, something about halves and brothers and framing. He remembers, for all that it means. If they were here right now, could he forgive them? Could they recover?<br/>
<br/>
The smell of burning breaks his concentration. He yelps, running for the oven in a move reminiscent of Wilbur. With his mitts barely on, Tommy pulls the cake out. It is completely burnt, black and charred. It smells horrible, so he does the rational thing and tosses it out the window. It doesn’t crash like he expects, so he looks out. Evidently he’s just thrown his burnt cake off the hill into the sea.<br/>
<br/>
A fitting end if he does say so himself. Exactly what cakes who burn deserve.<br/>
<br/>
Without the cake, he has nothing to put the icing on, so with a shrug he picks the bowl up and settles back on the couch. Not exactly how he planned to spend his birthday, but better than nothing! Plus, the icing is better than he thought it’d be.<br/>
<br/>
So Tommy spends his seventeenth birthday eating icing with his fingers. By the end of the day the couch will be covered in sticky sugar, as will his book of fairy tales, but Tommy doesn’t care. His first birthday alone might not have been conventional, but he enjoyed the day. And he didn’t cry once.<br/>
<br/>
Soon, Clara will come to visit, and Tommy will regale her with the tale of the burnt cake, conveniently failing to mention the reason for his new couch cushions. He’ll walk along the beach with her and listen to her travels. One day, he’ll reminisce about his young self's inability to bake. He’ll never tell anyone else what his seventeenth birthday was like, no matter how much his family will eventually bug him about it. He’ll keep it as a memory for himself. </p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>
    <em>~Clementine's 1st Birthday~</em>
  </p>
</div><p>	Clementine is sitting on Tommy’s hip, clapping her hands as best she can, as Uncle Wilby plays her a song. It’s her first birthday, and everyone is determined to make it magical.<br/>
<br/>
In the kitchen, Phil is baking her cake, shaped like a butterfly. Tommy had scoffed when he’d seen the design, mumbling something about bakers and their “Fuckin’ magic” before Phil chased him away. Techno is doing something very secretive upstairs. Whatever it is involves a lot of muffled swearing.<br/>
<br/>
All of her gifts are wrapped with sparkly blue wrapping paper that Tommy had found on a village trip. It’s horrible to clean up, but Clem adores it. They just have to watch her carefully around it, because she tends to try and eat it. Techno had gotten bit once already.<br/>
<br/>
Once the song Wilbur was playing came to an end, Tommy shoved Clementine into his arms, making wiggly fingers in her face as he withdrew. “Hold her for a sec, I gotta get her gift from the barn.”<br/>
<br/>
“Aight, wear a coat!” Wil calls after him. He holds up a hand in acknowledgement and grabs his tan jacket.<br/>
<br/>
The weather is pleasant, if a bit nippy, but the wind has gotten downright freezing lately, so the jacket is necessary as Tommy steps outside. He makes his way to the barn, along the cobblestone path that is now peppered with small blue flowers. Wilbur’s doing, he thinks. He’s not sure how he got them to grow in the cracks, but whatever he did was very successful.<br/>
<br/>
When he slides open the barn door, Bernard greets him with a whinny and a sharp stomp. Tommy flips him off as he goes by, affectionately. The horse tries to nip at his finger.<br/>
<br/>
The sheep are all huddled together, apparently not pleased with the wind. He doesn’t blame them, not after seeing Jimmy get knocked clean over by a large gust of wind. He’d felt bad for laughing.<br/>
<br/>
There, in the corner, is his gift to Clementine. A wooden rocking horse. She’s going to love it, he knows. Every time he takes her out on Bernard she becomes ecstatic, and he looks forward to the day he can help her tame her own horse. Tommy had spent many nights carving this in front of the fire, leaning against Techno’s legs while he read, Wilbur and Phil snoring away upstairs with the baby.<br/>
<br/>
They’d been talking about moving into the house more permanently, which would mean new rooms would be needed. Tommy thinks it would be nice to live with them all again. In the months since they found him, they’ve shown him how much they’ve changed. It almost feels like his childhood again, in the early years. Clementine adores them, which is a good enough reason to keep them near anyway.<br/>
<br/>
Who is he kidding, Phil leaves piles of feathers all over, Wilbur has amassed a collection of musical instruments from somewhere, and Techno now has enough swords for an army in his basement. His family isn’t going anywhere any time soon, even if he did try and kick them out.<br/>
<br/>
Shaking his head, he hoists the wooden horse up, closing the barn door with his foot as he leaves. When he opens the house door, he smells the delicious scent of dinner and cake, chocolate by the smell of it. Wilbur is sitting on the couch, Clem in his arms, bouncing her on his knee. Techno has made his appearance, sitting at the table. There’s a new present in the pile, wrapped in a hurry, and Techno has a bandage around his index finger.<br/>
<br/>
Phil is carefully bringing the cake out to cool on the counter. He’s thrown open the kitchen window to help it cool and the salty air is coming inside in bursts. It ruffles the feathers on his wings and he pulls them closer to his body.<br/>
<br/>
Tommy places the gift by the table, hidden from Clementine's distracted gaze. Techno gives him an impressed look, as impressed as Techno can get, when he sees the horse.<br/>
<br/>
“I see you finished it in time. How much sleep did you get?” he teases. Tommy kicks him under the table.<br/>
<br/>
“More than you, eye bags.” Tommy shoots back. Techno smirks and kicks back, nailing Tommy right in the shin. Tommy yelps and brings his leg up, frowning at his brother. Their battle is interrupted by Phil, who places a stack of pancakes in front of them.<br/>
<br/>
“Get Wil and Clem, it’s time to eat.” says Phil, directing his words to Tommy.<br/>
<br/>
They’d asked Clementine what she wanted for dinner and all she’d said was “pan-pan”. Tommy had translated that to mean pancakes. Phil had been delighted to take the kitchen over for the task.<br/>
<br/>
Tommy swept Clementine out of Wilbur's arms, blowing a raspberry into her stomach. “Ready for your first birthday dinner lil’ girl?”<br/>
<br/>
Clementine just giggled at him. He sat her in the high chair, sitting himself next to her. He’d made more chairs a week after the others had arrived, so now his table fit five. It was cozy, if you ignored the amount of kicking that went on underneath.<br/>
<br/>
Clementine managed to become covered in syrup while Tommy hadn’t been looking, so when breakfast for dinner was done, he took her to the sink to wipe her face and hands off. Phil was already icing the cake, using multiple piping bags in what seemed like a complicated ritual. Technoblade and Wilbur were clearing the table.<br/>
<br/>
“Wanna open your presents Clem?” she bounces in his arms. “Yeah? Ok lets go.”<br/>
<br/>
What followed was less of an unwrapping and more of a massacre. Though her fine motor skills were pretty undeveloped, she had somehow inherited Tommy’s ability to cause destruction.<br/>
<br/>
The first gift turned out to be a tiny pair of maracas, courtesy of Wilbur. Clementine immediately loved the noise they produced, shaking them violently until she smacked Tommy in the head and had to be distracted by the other presents.<br/>
<br/>
Phil gave her picture books, some of which Tommy recognized from his own toddler days. One of them had a butterfly on the front and was clearly her favorite.<br/>
<br/>
Techno’s gift turned out to be what he’d been working on upstairs, a butterfly plushie, hand-stitched. It isn’t perfect, but it’s lovingly crafted, and Clementine squeals when she sees it. Then she tucks it under her arm, where it is probably going to stay until bath time.<br/>
<br/>
And finally, Tommy brings out the rocking horse. He’s a little nervous for some reason. He just wants his daughter to have the best first birthday ever, even if she won’t remember it.<br/>
<br/>
Clementine proves he has no reason to worry though, as she practically shrieks “Horsie!” and stumbles for it. In no time at all she’s rocking away, butterfly grasped in one arm, maraca and book in the other. It’s adorable, the way she won’t let any of the gifts go, and Tommy knows Phil has taken many screenshots.<br/>
<br/>
Eventually, they light the candle. Clem tries to grasp the flame, to everyone's horror, but Techno’s quick reflexes stop that in time. Tommy has to demonstrate what to do, but then she gets it. She sputters more than she blows, but the candle goes out all the same and so they all cheer, startling her. She looks around with big eyes, confused, and Tommy cuts the cake.<br/>
<br/>
In the evening, when the stars have come out, Tommy takes her outside, bundled in her blankets and onesie. She’s still grasping the plushie, sleepily chewing on her thumb.<br/>
<br/>
He holds her up, so she can see the vast expanse of stars as they reflect on the sea’s surface. They’re surrounded by space.<br/>
<br/>
“The stars wanted to wish you a happy birthday, Clementine, because they love you.” he whispers to her, standing at the edge of the hill. “Just like I do.”<br/>
<br/>
She smiles up at him, the freckles on her face glimmering. Sometimes, in the dead of night, he’ll wake up afraid. The shine of her face always calms him.<br/>
<br/>
Content, he stands there, swaying with his child, above and below the stars.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Once again, I read through this once lmao. Also, I would like people to know that in my family, kids get their first knife at seven. So. Six seems ok with a sword. </p><p>Few things, first: can you tell that halfway through writing this i remembered that gift was a word? Second: I watched the Lumineers trilogy about the Sparks family while writing this, I recommend that for Emotions. Third, i'm 80% sure i just randomly switch tenses in there, so uhhh... ignore that.  </p><p>The song Tommy thinks of, if you caught that bit, is Call Them Brothers by Regina Spektor. So good for SBI. </p><p>Posting this and going to sleep, so I hope you enjoyed!</p></blockquote></div></div>
</body>
</html>